I Dreamt Daniel Called
by noenigma
Summary: The last of my SG-1 stories...how the team dealt with losing Daniel when he ascended.


_Author's Note: I found the show's limited subtle nods to the team's grief over Daniel's death to be woefully underdone in the episodes following Meridian. This was my take on how they came to terms with his loss._

I dreamt Daniel called. It was an improvement, a vast improvement, over the nightmares where he appears beside me, and I spend the rest of the night bleaching my sheets and pillows to remove the smell of his death from my room…or the rest of the mission sleeping on the hard ground huddled under my emergency blanket until we can get home and I can get my bag cleaned. Yes, Daniel on the phone even with his throat raspy and full of blood as the radiation eats its way through him is much better than Daniel oozing blood and pus all over my sheets.

He's in my dreams a lot since Kelowna, and, all in all, I'd rather see him there than not. Daniel, closer than a brother, dearer than a friend…and gone like too many others in my life. If dreams and nightmares are all I have left of him than let them come. Only…well, if I could I'd certainly choose the ones where he is whole and healthy and vitally alive. I'm not always up to entertaining the dead and dying Daniels.

Anyway, this time he called. You'd think it would have been to say good-by or maybe even tell me not to miss him. Mom used to say those sorts of things in my dreams those first weeks and months after she died. But not Daniel. He's never bothered. I guess my subconscious knows Daniel was too smart to think saying it could possibly make it happen and wouldn't waste either of our times in a worse-than-useless attempt. So no pep talk for the grieving friend. I'm sure of that.

But what he did say… I've lost. It faded away before I woke and now I'm left with a vivid sense of having forgotten something very important, very urgent…something worthy of the effort that call cost him. He wouldn't have called just to say hello, not drowning in pain and choking on the blood pooling in his lungs. Whatever his message and however imperative it seemed, it has left me disquieted, and I'd almost say distraught.

Unfortunately, there's nowhere in this cell to distance myself from the others until I can shake off the dream world and nothing to do to distract myself from the gnawing urgency with which it has left me. Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c pick up on my unease and their reactions only heighten my own. The colonel watches me with pursed lips and Teal'c hovers at my back, and I know they are growing concerned that something worse happened when we were separated before our capture than what did. I've already assured them everything's fine, but they aren't buying it.

Because I'm not okay. 'Learn to live with it,' General Hammond advised me, and I would if I could, but I don't know how. Which makes me about as far from okay as I can be, but still I try not to squirm under their concern because there's nothing they can do about it. And the last thing I want to see is the look on the colonel's face if I'm forced to admit I'm more upset about Daniel's call than the pummeling I took.

The colonel is about to pace our cramped confines again. I can feel his caged frustration building to the boiling point. Stifling the groan moving causes my cramped and aching legs, I shift them closer to my body to give him more stalking room…better now when I can take my own time forcing the stiff muscles to move than when he erupts. He shoots me an odd look that makes me wonder if he recognizes my disguised movements for what they are.

We've been together as a team a long time now. Longer than would usually be deemed advisable in the military-no close, personal ties to interfere on the battlefield. But, in our particular war zone it's not so easy to transfer people in and out in an attempt to keep things more impersonal. Not everyone on the Air Force payroll is cut out for classified work. And even the Pentagon has to know that every bit of hard-won offworld experience might make the difference out here and is just too valuable to transfer off to baby-sit missiles slumbering in silos scattered throughout desolate western fields.

So here we are. Knowing each other a bit better than we are sometimes comfortable with, the three of us. We're each into keeping our inner selves close and hidden, and, though on the field knowing the others' next moves has saved our skins more than once, having our innermost thoughts and…well, let's not go there…so open to each other is disturbing to us all. But there it is, so when instead of bounding up to pace, Colonel O'Neill suddenly leans over to bring his face right in front of my nose I sigh in resigned aggravation instead of drawing back in startled surprise.

"Out with what's bothering you or strip and let Teal'c and I see the damage for ourselves," he demands, and I don't doubt he means it. The military has a point about personnel getting too close…any other SG team would have taken my word and left me alone, but not these guys.

Maybe if my injuries would have been worrying me, I might have been at least somewhat grateful. Instead, I am more than a bit disgruntled. 'How dare you?' is the thought shouting in my mind, but I swallow it down while examining my options. It's possible whatever's aching in my lower right abdomen could appease him…possible but likely? Having had no chance to check out the damage myself, I can't say. Still, he has no right to order me to discuss Daniel with him when he himself refuses to acknowledge he's even gone. Fury boils up in me, and with an angry snarl I loosen my shirt and heft it just enough for him to take a peek.

He hisses at the sight and curses under his breath, and I think for a moment he'll take the bait. It's a short-lived hope. He pokes and prods around a bit, managing to increase the dull throb to an insistent roar but doing me no good. Our captors have stripped us of our supplies but even with them the colonel's first aid skills leave a lot to be desired. Not that it's important in the long run; the injury will heal without outside interference anyway.

Colonel O'Neill frowns at it a bit longer. He cocks his head at Teal'c who silently confers his medical opinion with a slight head nod. The colonel switches his frown from my lower side to my eyes. His stare demands an answer I'm not willing to give him. I close my eyes and let out a wavering breath, but he is not deterred.

"I'll take out the first creep I see with size 12 boots, Carter," he says.

"Right, Sir," I say through gritted teeth. That's my prerogative if we run into the man who felt the need to kick an opponent who was already down, and he very well knows it. I gingerly slip my shirt back down and wait for it. It doesn't take long.

"And where was Lewis while this was going down?" he snarls.

Whatever the colonel's suspicions that I'm not being open with him, he might let the boot print in my side stand as the cause of my distress if I let him deflect his worry into anger at Lewis. Refusing him that outlet is bound to backfire, but it is hardly the captain's fault he isn't Daniel. Even if I wasn't feeling so…oppressed by Daniel's forgotten message, I am not in the mood to put up with the colonel's irrational and uncalled for response to Lewis or anyone else assigned to SG-1. If blame has to be laid for my beating it doesn't belong at the feet of the new guy.

When the situation had gone south, the colonel had ordered me to take Lewis and get to the Gate for reinforcements. We'd all been well aware I was being assigned handholding duty. But it hadn't ended up that way. The captain and I had barely managed to make the Gate, and I'd had to expose myself to allow him any chance of making it through.

"I was there to watch his back, Sir," I forcefully remind him, throwing the blame squarely at his feet even though I know I am opening myself up for yet another beating in defense of Captain Lewis. And that it is a low blow. The colonel knows as well as I do it was a bad call. He hadn't wanted the kid around in a firefight and split the team, an action which ultimately led to our capture. But hindsight is 20/20, plus it's not the first beating I've gotten under his command-just part of the job, nothing to cry over or throw in his face.

I am not so angry that I don't feel a stab of self-reproach for my attack, but I shoot it down. It's not like I asked for him to get in my face and demand answers he doesn't want to hear. Besides, even though he doesn't need a reason to dislike the young captain who will now certainly not be filling Daniel's empty spot on the team, he'll use whatever comes his way, and I'm not willing to feed his already well-developed grudge against Lewis. Like I said, it is hardly the man's fault he isn't Daniel.

The colonel's frown deepens into a scowl.

"It's a nice enough bruise, Carter," he starts, "but hardly what's got you in a snit. Start talking."

I growl at him in frustration, and a puzzled, hurt look crosses his features before he gets his scowl firmly back in place. The man is an idiot I decide angrily. For weeks, he's acted like he can't figure out the problem between us as though I haven't practically begged him to acknowledge Daniel's loss and let me grieve. 'I don't want to hear it, Carter,' had been his response in the days immediately following Daniel's…whatever it was. He can pretend he doesn't know what is up all he wants, but Colonel Jack O'Neill is nobody's fool. He knows good and well I've been rather unsuccessfully swallowing down my grief, pain, and fury ever since.

This is the man who claimed at one point to care for me more than he should. And I'd have laid good money that he cared for us all more than he should. But since Jonas Quinn arrived to vindicate Daniel and clear him of all culpability concerning the incident that led to his death, the colonel seems to think the whole issue has been dealt with satisfactorily. As though Daniel's death takes far less than second seat to the question of his innocence.

I suppose at some point down the road that will mean something to me as well. Teal'c, I know, sets great store in dying a 'good' death. But no one who counted had ever believed Daniel guilty of the charges against him. His dying and his death though…that can't be rescinded or dropped or changed. Daniel is gone and those of us who knew and loved him the most should be mourning him together.

Instead the colonel acts as though his absence is little more than an inconvenience requiring him to break in a new team member. And he expects Teal'c and me to fall in line with his assessment. Whatever happened there at the end, whatever that was that took Daniel…he's gone. The colonel wants to carry on as though Daniel isn't lost to us, but he's gone. And regardless of our commander who insists SG-1 stay on top of the duty roster and shoots down every attempt I make to address Daniel's loss, it is devastating to the team.

We've lost Daniel before, and we've mourned him before. It might be more natural for the colonel to tuck his pain away and deal with it by volunteering for the most dangerous missions, but he's always respected that isn't how we all function. He has never let us wallow in our grief for long, but he's always let us express it. Until this time. This time that is proving all too permanent, all too final.

I can't address Teal'c's emotional needs, but I am not doing so hot with pretending life goes on. I need to be able to mourn Daniel. Not in the brief snatches of downtime we sometimes can grab between missions. And not by myself. I want, and I believe the team needs for us to mourn Daniel together. More than that Daniel deserves some sort of tribute to mark his passing and what he has meant to us.

Whether for myself or Teal'c who won't or maybe can't confess his needs to the colonel or for Daniel himself, my anger towards the colonel has been growing for far too long. I'm tempted to let it boil out of me here in this cramped cell with armed guards staring impassively at us through the bars.

Which tells me we are in even worse shape than I believed…what were the powers that be thinking to send us out here knowing we are still reeling from Daniel's loss? Here where one misstep carries the potential not only for our deaths but also for the very destruction of Earth. We need to be focused, at the top of our game. Instead, I am such a mess I can't even shake off an unsettling dream, and the team's communication and interpersonal relationships are so tenuous that I am prepared to rip my senior officer to pieces before our enemy instead of showing a united front.

"Carter," Colonel O'Neill says sternly waiting for me to fess up to whatever he thinks I'm hiding.

I draw in a ragged breath and try to persuade myself now isn't the time to blow my top. I could plead personal issues… I'd done the job, got Lewis unharmed to the Gate, and if what is bothering me is my own business…well, it is my own business. He has no right to demand I air my dirty laundry in front of the team. Only this isn't personal, and the anger festering inside of me could very well endanger us all just as much or more than his denial of our grief.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir," I spit out.

"Go for it, Major," he says. "Lay it on the line."

"I'm upset because…" I struggle for some sort of equilibrium because I hate wearing my heart on my sleeve, especially in front of the colonel, and it was only a dream after all. Since when have I let a dream make me an emotional wreck—ok, don't answer that, those first few months after Jolinar shouldn't be held against me. At least, the colonel hasn't held them against me. I don't want him to start thinking now that I am a basket case even without alien influences.

He softens his scowl and gives me a slight shrug as though he's rooting for me to pull myself together. And doubtlessly he is. If he was ok with dealing with weeping, irrational teammates I wouldn't be so mad at him in the first place.

I draw in another deep breath and say, "It's really nothing, Sir." It sounds unconvincing even to me, and he doesn't deign to even acknowledge it. I plunge on, "Just a dream I can't shake."

"A dream," he says as though by repeating my absurd explanation he can make sense of it.

"I told you I was fine."

"But…a dream?" he asks.

"You do not seem fine to me, Major Carter," Teal'c interjects into our conversation.

"I…I know…it just unsettled me is all. I'm fine. Really."

"Right," the colonel drawls out making it sound even more doubtful than I feel. He and Teal'c exchange glances, and the colonel shrugs. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"You say you're all right…ok. I can't force you to tell me the truth if that's the way you want to play it, but a dream? Since when have you put any stock in dreams? Come on, Major, at least give me my due."

I have a choice: let him think I'm holding out on him, letting him and Teal'c down, or 'lay it on the line' and open myself up to his scornful dismissal. A moment ago I was mad enough to let him think the worst of me, but if I didn't need his support in the first place I'd never have been angry to start with. I cravenly capitulate before his anger.

"It's just…it's just that the dream was about Daniel, and I know you don't want to go there, Sir…" I bite my lower lip to fight back the tears flooding my eyes and gulp down air to keep sobs from rising in my throat. I struggle on as his eyes narrow and his lips thin at my words, "…but, in the dream he told me something that I've forgotten…and, and I just can't shake the feeling that it was important—that I need to remember it. I know it's stupid, Sir…I know it was just a dream, but-" I don't continue because I am convinced that it's Daniel himself I'm afraid I'll forget.

Somewhere in my choked out explanation the colonel's irritation at my insistence of bringing up a topic he's deemed closed has turned to an active interest that I can't understand.

"Daniel. He told you something important?" he asks as though he puts great stock in dreams and messages from the dead.

I shrug and take a futile swipe at my wet face with the back of my sleeve before I say, "Stupid. I know."

"That's not what I said, Carter," he answers gruffly. He opens his lips to say more and then thinks better of it. "Come here," he says instead and pulls me awkwardly against his shoulder. I shift carefully to take the pressure off of my side and lean against his shoulder. He smells of Earth, of home. He always does, and I don't know of a more comforting scent. We should bottle it and stock it in every field kit that passes through the StarGate; it is that healing.

He lets it do its work on me, and Teal'c places his large, warm hand on my shoulder to complete the cure. I sob against the colonel and think it might be enough. Encircled in their love, I may find the strength I need to go on. Even though they don't join me in my tears or with words to honor the memory of our fallen comrade, their quiet presence and support might see me through.

Too soon, the colonel shifts uncomfortably and says, "This is about Daniel then…not a dream?"

"Sorry, Sir," I say hearing the displeasure in his voice. I stiffen to pull away from him, but he pulls me back into his embrace and holds me there tightly.

"No," he says softly into my hair, "I'm the one who's sorry…there's no shame in this, Major. You're right, Daniel's gone. No use denying it. He's not dead-don't' think that for a minute…but he's gone all the same. I didn't want to…I hoped…well, I've lost too many people. I didn't want to have to face Daniel was gone again, but…he is."

"Indeed," Teal'c murmurs which has to be the end of the conversation because though I'd willingly offer the colonel my shoulder to cry on, he'd never accept it. I give him instead a weak smile which he returns with a sickly grimace of his own. I acknowledge to myself we're not the most functional team even in the best of times, but we get the job done and who can ask for more?

I sniff and shift to put some distance between us. The colonel lets me go this time, and Teal'c moves back to give me some room.

"Thank you," I say to them both. Teal'c inclines his head in answer.

The colonel peers intently into my eyes and grates out, "So, Carter…about that dream? About the message you forgot-any idea what it was all about?"

I blink at him in surprise. I am convinced even more now than before that the dream was all about accepting Daniel's loss and going on from there. I've never imagined that Daniel's message had any real significance in the waking world…the disquiet I'd felt in forgetting his words was the disquiet I felt in not being able to acknowledge his passing. The idea that the colonel might think otherwise comes as a shock.

I'd read his report. The one about Daniel appearing beside him, asking him to let him go. The one that indicated Daniel hadn't truly died at all. And I'd seen for myself…whatever we'd seen as he had…passed. But—I hadn't known what to make of it, and it had been too much to process in the undeniable reality that we'd lost Daniel. Dead or ascended he had left us.

"None, Sir. But, it was just a dream, Colonel."

Something like disappointment passes over his face, but he nods his head as though he accepts my words. We've been together too long for me to be fooled. He hasn't quit worrying that particular bone. He eases himself up off the floor and paces off his stiffness to disguise his disagreement.

It has been a long day in every sense of the word, and I'm exhausted. I watch him pace a round or two before I nod off into a troubled, restless sleep that does nothing to alleviate my weariness. If the cold, rock-hard floor and my various aches and pains weren't enough to make the night miserable, every time I surface to awareness the colonel is peering intently at me as though he is expecting me to come out with the solution to all our problems. At first, I'm too tired to understand what he is after, but somewhere in the small hours of the night I realize he is waiting for me to dream about Daniel again. To hear from him, like a voice from the grave reaching out to save us from the fate that awaits us in the morning.

I am suitably horrified. And shocked. And confused. And horrified. If I weren't so tired I would have to acknowledge to myself that I am questioning his mental well-being. Instead I turn my back away from his eager face and numb my mind with sleep.

And I dream of Daniel. Whole and healthy, laughing at my fears for the colonel's sanity.

"Really, Sam," he says, "when has Jack ever been rational?" I frown at him, and he laughs even harder as he goes on, "You know as well as I do, the man's certifiable."

"Not like this," I say though I am aware he is only a figment of my subconscious.

"No," he admits, and suddenly he is sober and intent. "Not like this. But then none of us are quite like we've always been, are we?"

I look away from him and blink back my tears before I say, "No, we're not."

"I didn't know it would be so hard," he says.

I am swamped with an irrational wave of anger and barely manage to bite back an angry accusation. It is not Daniel's fault he died…and yet it is.

"Let him go, Jacob…it's what he wants," the colonel had said and my father had faltered and then stopped at those words.

"You chose this," I accuse. I wait for him to deny it, but he ducks his head and avoids my eyes and I know it is true. My anger deflates until I am left with only a painful sense of abandonment.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I thought I could make a difference this way."

"And have you?" I ask.

"I'm about to," he says with a small smile. And then he begins to glow and transform and then the swirling, glowing mass that takes his place whisks through the back wall of our cell and is gone.

"Daniel!" I cry desperately after him, and instantly I am awake. I have been crying in my sleep and tears blind me for a minute. When I fight through them I find the colonel gazing at me.

"Daniel?" he asks quietly as though aware his earlier intensity had alarmed me. I nod my head, and he presses on, "What did he have to say?"

I scowl at him, trying to remember the dream in spite of myself. I would rather let it go. I've been angry with the dead before, blaming them for their absence in my life. I understand it's a normal part of the grief process, but I also know it isn't anything I'm proud of. I don't want to remember the emotions and words that had spewed out of my subconscious in my dream.

"He said you were nuts, Sir," I say hoping he'll get the hint and leave me be.

"Of course, he did. But besides that? What did he say?" he demands again.

"That about covers it, Sir. He said you were nuts and did the whole glowy thing and left…right through that back wall, Sir" I say. We both turn and look at the wall.

We'd spent hours the day before going over every square centimeter of our cell by sight and by feel and found nothing…no hidden lock or control panel just cool, rough rock. But now one small area near the corner emits a very faint glow. It is so dim I'm not really sure it is anything at all.

The colonel gives a small sound that almost sounds triumphant. I rather painfully sit up and say, "What is that?"

Without a word, the colonel helps me to my feet, and we stumble over to it. Teal'c silently and unobtrusively joins us at the wall. Using the faint glow as a guide, I feel about and discover what we'd missed in the daylight. The light comes from behind the solid seeming bit of rock which hides a recessed control panel. Within moments, we are out of the cell and creeping through empty corridors. From there, it doesn't take us long to find a way out of first the building and then the alien city.

The colonel and I look to Teal'c to take point. We follow him in the direction we trust will lead us to the StarGate. We are not moving as fast as we'd like. There is only a thin slice of waning moon to see by, and what I've tried to ignore all night is becoming too insistent for me to disregard any longer. I'm in trouble. Physically this time. The damage to my side must be more extensive than I'd assumed earlier. I am guessing from the pain and faintness washing through me that I am bleeding internally. Not what we need. I swallow my groans, fight for air, and struggle unsuccessfully to keep up.

The colonel and Teal'c don't say anything. I guess they are exchanging worried looks though I can't see them. The colonel moves beside me and throws my arm over his shoulder. I do my best to stifle the cry of pain the movement sends roaring through me and feel myself going limp.

"Carter!" he hisses urgently and eases me to the ground.

"We must keep moving, O'Neill," Teal'c says in a soft whisper. "We are being pursued."

The colonel curses under his breath. Teal'c slips his big arms around me to lift me, and we are moving again. And then there is movement from up ahead of us. A steep hillside to our right and a treacherous bank to our left leave us trapped between our pursuers and whoever is rushing towards us. I feel Teal'c bunch his muscles to carry us down over the bank at our side and then he relaxes. A moment later their lights reveal it is SGC personnel rushing towards us. Captain Lewis's reinforcements to the rescue.

By the time I'm back among the living, it's all over except for the paperwork. Janet shakes her head over me and tells me I wouldn't have survived even a few more hours out there without medical help. I believe her. Teal'c brings me Jello and silently inclines his head to acknowledge my thanks. I hope he knows I'm not just talking about the Jello.

The colonel saunters in. He's brought the mission report as an excuse for his presence at my bedside. Though it would keep, I dutifully skim it and place my initials in all the right spots to give him the time to see I am on my way to a full recovery.

"Still think I'm nuts?" he asks as he takes them back.

"Sir?"

"About Daniel and the dream?" he prompts, but as frequently happens, I have no idea what he's getting at.

"Sir?" I say again.

"About us getting out of there before you bled to death?" he goes on. I am not enlightened. The dream had been just that, a dream. It had had nothing to do with our escape. The faint light that had led us to the control panel had doubtlessly been shining the entire time we were in the cell. It had been too faint to see in the daytime, but once darkness had fallen any of us could have seen it. If anything it was my injury that could be credited with our discovery. If not for it, we all might have slept undisturbed and failed to see that tiny bit of light in the back corner of the room. Though I suppose a dream analyst might say I'd noticed the light on a subconscious level and my dream had brought that area of the wall to my attention. Neither the colonel nor I have ever been big believers in that sort of thing.

He sees the doubt on my face and snorts. "Nevermind, Carter. Just forget it." He doesn't seem particularly disturbed by my lack of belief as he ambles off.

 _Author's Notes: It is interesting reading through these old stories to repost and running into a character I named Lewis. Nope, nothing coincidental about that I am sure. At that point, I must have already run through all the novels and few Morse DVD's our library owned—interlibrary loaning the rest up until my family got me the whole collection for my birthday. (Sadly for my fellow library patrons, I'm sure, because the library bought copies of the ones I'd had to request from other places, but not those I hadn't so that their collection remains incomplete until this day, lol.) And, I'm guessing I had already started my own Lewis collection. So not prescient at all, but fun to note it here in my last SG-1 story knowing the slew of Morse and Lewis ones to follow. Also, reading the whole collection, if you will, lol, of my SG-1 stories, I can note a few parallels in this last one to my very first one—I find that interesting though I imagine it really just emphasizes the limitations of my imagination._


End file.
